Elf Problems
by andthelightbulbclicks
Summary: Katniss needs some extra cash for the holidays, but she, Jo, and Annie can't come up with any ways. Along comes Finnick, Annie's boyfriend, who has the answer... Dawn elf hats and booties and work alongside Dasher, Dancer, and Prancer. Now being Santa's helpers doesn't have many perks, but Peeta Mellark may make it worth Katniss's wild, hey, whatever works. A holiday story.
1. Chapter 1: Wearing Jingle Belled Shoes

**Hello, hello! I've decided to write this little story to get everyone (and myself) into the holiday spirit! This story has been begging to be written for quite some time, so what better time than the weeks before Christmas? It's a three-part story, so the next two chapters will follow within the coming weeks. I hope if you're not in the holiday mood yet, this helps a little bit! Please read, review, and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything regarding The Hunger Games series.**

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you this right now Brainless, <em>this<em>? What I'm doing for you right now? Your Christmas present. From me, to you, with a shit ton of love."

I scowl at Jo as I watch her struggle into the striped stockings that don't seem to want to progress over her knees and under the red dress she's wearing. Her short brown hair is flying out in every direction possible as she bounces around.

"Oh hush up Johanna," Annie scolds as she walks into the office we are currently using as a dressing room, arms full of green, red, and white fabric. And, to my utter horror, the pile of clothes is making _noise_. "This will be _fun_. Spending the holiday season making children happy will be _fun_," she emphasizes as she walks over to me and gives me my very own pair of red and white striped stockings.

I stretch my hands out for them reluctantly.

"Says the education major," I mutter as I start my own battle of getting these goddamn monstrosities up my own legs.

Johanna, hearing my remark, can't help but add one of her own. "Need I remind you that we are doing this for _you_?"

I roll my eyes at her, because this is the same argument she's been using all week. "_I_ need the job for Christmas money. _Finnick_ needs the help and is willing to pay better than any other job offer I've gotten. _Annie_ is roped into this by default for being the girlfriend," I count off with my fingers. "Nobody is making you do this," I huff out, because really, my lack of desire to be here probably outweighs hers by a mile.

That thought is only amplified by the little red and green shoes Annie pulls out from the pile of festive clothing.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," I say in complete shock.

"No Katniss, I am not kidding you," Annie explains with an exasperated sigh. "Just as I was not kidding about the stockings, or the dresses, or the hats…" And she continues with the list of items that caused the same response from either Johanna or me throughout this entire wardrobe process.

"Wait," Jo interrupts, "What hats?"

Annie only gives us a wide smile as she tosses Johanna a green hat with a giant jingle bell hanging from the end. But really, what makes my own mouth drop open is the large felt ears conveniently placed on either side of the hat to cover our ears. Johanna holds the hat away from her with two fingers and fixes me with her own glare.

"I lied," she deadpans, "your Christmas present for the next five years."

Seeing an opportunity to play on my current grumpy state, Johanna happily struts over to Annie and picks up a pair of shoes, shaking them in her hands. "Hey look Brainless, they jingle too!" She points out unnecessarily. My grimace at the sound is just the encouragement she needs to start to jingle them repeatedly until they're right in my face.

"Okay, okay I get it!" I yell over the continuous clamber of jingles. I swat the shoes and Johanna's hands away from my face as she continuously laughs. "No Christmas presents for the next five years. I can deal with that." She says that now, but I know she'd be here with me and Annie no matter the reason. She just likes being dramatic.

The thing is, I really am the only one who desperately needs the money. Mom's nursing salary just seems to cover the bills with my added help, but that's just it. We _just_ cover it. Christmas has been a simple affair for years. But last year Mom had gotten a bonus around Christmas time and we were able to purchase some extra gifts for Prim. And while my twelve-year-old sister doesn't believe in Santa Claus anymore, the look of surprise and complete joy on her face Christmas morning brought a sense of contentment to my mom.

And me? Her reaction was the best Christmas present I have ever gotten.

I want to repeat that this year.

Only, mom didn't get another bonus, and the only gift Prim really, _really_ wants is a digital camera. For some reason unknown to me, she has recently found it a requirement to document the healing process of the animal patients she's come to rescue from the woods. I could get her a disposable one or a cheap camera, and she would simply be happy with that, but her friend Rue mentioned to me one day the exact kind that Prim _really _wanted but would never ask of me or my mom to get.

I stopped breathing for a good ten seconds at seeing the price after a quick search for the camera on my phone.

So Finnick Odair, photography major extraordinaire, being a good friend and boyfriend of one of my best friends, offered to ask some of his photography major buddies if they knew of anyone selling one of those cameras for a cheaper price. Turns out, what Prim wants is actually a professional camera where you have to buy the lenses separately, which only ups the cost even more.

But Finnick pulled through, finding one that was mildly more affordable. The unfortunate realization was though, that I had to find another job. There really was no other option. I searched and searched and searched. Jo helped, and even Annie started looking once she came back for winter break, but there was nobody willing to either pay me decently or hire me around the hours that I already work at Odair's Outerwear.

That is, except for Finnick Odair himself, who had this grand idea of coming back with Annie from their first semester at Panem U for break and running a holiday photography service offering pictures with Santa Claus at his grandma's shop.

It was just too convenient to pass up. I'm already at Odair's all the time, whether it's because I'm working or buying some kind of new outdoor gear for a camping or hunting trip. Now I'd just be alternating between hunting sales representative and…

Santa's elf.

Naturally, Jo and Annie wouldn't leave me to handle this alone. So here we are.

In the manager's office at Odair's Outerwear.

Dressing up as elves.

After we _finally_ get the five thousand different pieces to the elf costumes on our bodies, Annie looks over us all with an approving nod and a gleam in her eyes. You'd think her reddish-brown hair would clash with the red elf dress. It doesn't. It's like she was made to be an elf. I still can't bring myself to even smile. I am _so_ out of my element right now.

"Oh come on Katniss, this could be way worse," Annie chides as she notes my frown and reads my inner monologue. "It's nice to see you out of your jeans and hunting boots," she lightly jokes.

At that, the smallest smile is drawn out of me, but only with the accompanied eye roll.

Johanna does a little dance to test out how noisy she can be with all of the attached bells to our clothing. "You know," she says almost thoughtfully after she stops moving, "I'm not going to lie, this is kind of putting me into the holiday spirit right now." And then she starts to skip around us singing how it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas as Annie starts to laugh at Jo's antics. I can tell Jo's half doing it for my benefit.

I actually start to laugh a little. "This is going to be fun," I repeat Annie's words from earlier.

Annie gives me an encouraging smile. "This will be fun," she repeats again.

"I could have a worse job than this."

"You could have a way worse job than this."

"It's only for three weeks."

"It's only for three weeks, Katniss."

With that, I nod my head, convincing myself that this job will be tolerable for a mere three weeks. Annie beams at me as we head toward the door that will lead us out into the main area of the store.

Johanna heads out first and Annie turns around to look at me one more time, "You _will_ have fun Katniss," she reiterates one more time for good measure. Then she turns to walk out the door.

Two seconds later, I hear Finnick's boisterous voice come from out in the shop. "There are my elves! Who's ready to get their jingle on?"

And with two sentences out of Finnick's mouth, I feel my mantra crumbling to dust.

I pull the stupid elf hat with the stupid elf ears further down on my head so only my braid can be seen from under it and trudge my feet out into the shop.

This is going to suck.

* * *

><p>To call Odair's Outerwear a shop isn't really the best explanation for the sheer size of the place. Aside from raising and doting on her grandson's every wish and whim, Mags Odair's second most prized possession is this store. She started it from the ground up years ago and has owned and managed the store for as long as anyone in town can remember. She worked hard and continuously expanded her building until it became a staple to our small town in Pennsylvania. It easily competes with those chain stores that have popped up across the state.<p>

Fishing, hunting, camping, even sports equipment. Odair's has it all, and it became my haven as a fourteen-year-old desperate for a job that no one was willing to give me. But Mags gave me a chance no one else would. Sure, I was in storage organizing and taking inventory, but I was grateful for every second of it. The outdoors is what I love, and Mags saw that passion in me. Three years later, and here I am, the store's hunting sales representative.

And part-time elf for the next three weeks.

I walk out of the office to be met by the blinding smile of the one and only Finnick Odair. Even though he clearly already knows what kind of mood I'm in, he just can't cut me a break. I try to deter him with the death glare I give him, but that only seems to encourage him. He strolls past Annie and Jo and walks up to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

"I have to say Kitty Kat, you? In those stockings and that hat?" He taps the bell on my hat so it starts jingling. "I'll be lucky that this place doesn't start smoking up in flames with how hot you look." I look into his obscenely good looking face and watch his perfect eyebrows waggle with suggestiveness.

I snort as I shove his arm off my shoulders. "Go to hell Finn," I tell him as I stomp past him toward the center of the store where I know the whole Santa Claus picture thing is going to be held.

I hear all three of them laughing at my expense as I continue to try to ignore Finn yelling after me to be careful since the whole building is made out of wood. He loves teasing me, even though we all know he is ten thousand percent committed to Annie Cresta for the long haul. But clearly that doesn't stop him, or to be honest any of them, from the near constant teasing I endure.

I stop short right as I make it to the center of the store, completely at a loss for thought or words. Because right in front of me, where there would normally be holiday displays for the Christmas shoppers to admire while strolling through the store, there is a giant red sleigh with Christmas presents in it in front of a line of artificial Christmas trees. And not only that, but there's artificial snow _everywhere_, giving the feel of being outdoors in the snowy woods.

It's breathtaking.

I still can't bring myself to tear my eyes away from the scene before me as I feel the other three make their way up behind me.

"Ladies," Finnick says, "welcome to Odair's Outerwear's Winter Wonderland." I turn to see the awe I feel reflected in Annie's and Jo's faces and pride shining through in Finnick's eyes.

"Oh Finnick," Annie sighs in wonder, "how did you even manage to get any of this stuff?" I could ask the same question. Annie and he just got back from school and there is no way he could have accomplished all of this by himself in a matter of a day. Hell, I've been working here the past three days and this definitely wasn't here yesterday.

Finnick just smiles adoringly at the amazement on his girlfriend's face. "Well, Grams pretty much pulled the gazillion connections she has for the trees and the snow. And the sled is a hand-me-down from the mall that they were apparently going to get rid of, so Grams convinced them to donate it to her instead."

"Hand-me-down?" Jo asks skeptically as she walks over to the sleigh to get a better look at it. I follow her as I notice these incredible designs laced throughout the red in the sleigh.

I walk onto the artificial snow and step up to the sleigh, running my hand along the golden rim. There's intricate gold detailing all throughout the sides of the sleigh that draw the eye immediately. "It looks brand new," I whisper so only I can hear.

At least, I think only I can.

"Actually," a deep voice on the other side of the sled calls, "more like extremely refurbished." I jump at the voice, not able to identify its owner until a mop of blonde curls pops up on the other side. Attached to those golden curls is a guy no older than me, smiling at me like he's known me my entire life. But even more so than his sudden appearance or how strikingly handsome he seems to be, what actually leaves me momentarily speechless is the crystal blue eyes staring back at me that seem to smile all on their own.

Annie's voice is the only thing to break me out of my trance. "Oh Peeta!" She says as she rushes over to hug the guy as he makes his way over to our side of the sleigh with a paintbrush and a jar of gold paint in his hands. I step aside with the smallest amount of apprehension to watch the scene unfold. "I didn't know you were going to be here!"

He accepts her hug eagerly while trying to avoid bumping his paint brush into her. "It's good to see you too Annie! How's the college life treating you?"

"Enjoy the year and a half you have left is all I can tell you," Annie jokes as she pulls away from him, smiling ear to ear and turning to look at Finnick. "You didn't tell me Peeta's helping out."

Finnick just shrugs his shoulders. "It's not like I could have spruced up the sleigh myself. Peet and I checked it out the other day. You should have seen it Ann, it looked awful."

We all admire the sleigh again, but the guy's, Peeta's, proud smile catches my attention almost immediately. "It needed an artist's touch," he says with a smile while walking over to nudge Finnick with his shoulder. Finnick just pushes his shoulder with a laugh.

"Okaaaay, so Mr. Miracle Worker over here is a friend of yours?" Jo asks Finnick a second later.

Finnick nods his head enthusiastically, apparently forgetting that Jo and I seem to be the only two who don't know who this random guy is. Peeta. "Jo, Kat, meet Peeta Mellark," Finnick says while waving an arm between us. "Peet, these are Annie's best friends, Johanna Mason and Katniss Everdeen."

"Mellark?" Jo asks. "As in Mellark's Bakery?"

If I thought it was possible, I would say that Peeta's smile widens impossibly more. "The one and only," he beams. He stretches his hand out to Jo, who shakes it freely before he reaches his hand out to me. I can feel my eyebrows scrunch together as I grasp his hand quickly before letting go.

The roughness of his hands doesn't go unnoticed.

Finnick laughs at our interaction. "Don't mind little Kitty Kat, Peeta," and at that, I glare daggers at Finnick, "she's not the most people-oriented person in the world."

"Screw you Finn," I tell him as I look over to Peeta. And unsurprisingly, he's still smiling. Just smiling that same, happy grin. It gives him a dimple in his left cheek.

I'm surprised at how painfully aware I am of my current attire. Elf hat with giant fake ears. Shoes that jingle with every goddamn movement.

Finnick rolls his eyes before saying, "See? You always make your words count, Kat."

At this, Peeta chuckles, which gains him a scowl from me. Because what gives him the right to laugh at me when we literally just met? "Well anyone who doesn't put up with Finnick's shit has an award-winning personality to me," he remarks with a grin.

Much to my dismay, I feel my own smile drawn to my face.

"It's my Everdeen charm," I joke when I see Finnick childishly stick his tongue out at me where Peeta can't see. Jo's eyebrow quirks at my uncharacteristic response. I normally don't contribute much to conversations with people I don't know.

"Okay, okay people," Finnick cuts in a minute later. "This place opens in an hour, so we need to get everything put into order. Peeta, you go get dressed. Ladies, help me get the queue line ropes set up quickly."

"You're making poor Peeta dress up in an elf costume?" Annie questions in surprise.

"Tights and all," Finnick replies with a devilish smile.

Annie's eyes widen before she lets out a laugh. "Finnick Odair! How can you do that to poor Peeta?"

It's Peeta that responds. "Don't worry Annie, I volunteered."

Annie's answers with an eye roll and an 'of course you did.'

Jo looks around the store, her brows scrunched like she's calculating. "You honestly think people are going to show up here rather than head straight to the Santa Claus at the mall, Odair?"

Both Peeta and Finnick nod their heads enthusiastically. "Absolutely," Finnick explains, "mothers are going to much rather come here where there's that whole cabin-y/outdoors-y feel rather than walk through a crowded mall with their kids."

"That," Peeta adds, "and we pretty much spent the past three days putting up fliers across the entire town, the mall included, and mothers were swarming us with questions about when it was starting up."

"Great," I mumble. I was hoping for the smallest amount of interaction with screaming and crying kids and their neurotic mothers as possible.

Finnick laughs at my comment. "Don't you worry your little tail Kitty Kat, with that dazzling personality of yours, I'm keeping you as far away from the kids' interactions with Santa Claus as possible."

This catches my attention. "Then what exactly will I be doing in this wonderful get up," I ask with a wave of my arms.

Finnick's evil smirk makes me almost afraid to know the answer.

"You, my little elf," Finnick says in a sing-song voice, "will be greeting and sending off our wonderful customers. And collecting their orders." And with that, my permanent frown is back.

"Seriously?" Johanna barks on a laugh. "Why don't you just have Sunshine and Smiles do that," she inquires as she gestures toward Peeta, whose gaze I can feel on my face. He looks away as soon as my eyes meet his.

"Actually Johanna, he is. They both are," Finnick scolds playfully. "I need Peeta's sunshine and smiles to balance out Kat's gloom and doom. They're the perfect pair," he adds with a wink.

At this, I watch Peeta's face turn the slightest shade of red with embarrassment. I feel my own face flush at his reaction. He doesn't even want to work with me.

Stupid Finnick.

Stupid Peeta Mellark.

Stupid elf job.

Stupid camera.

Johanna interrupts my hate-filled mental rant. "And I take it I'll be working with the lovely kiddies then?" That idea in and of itself is alarming enough.

"Indeed my dear Johanna. Annie's uncanny ability to work with children will be balancing out your complete lack of tolerance for children. You and my lovely girlfriend will be in the photos with Santa Claus as background characters and to help out if any of the kids get antsy or scared or really whatever happens that Santa can't handle. Which," he adds with a regretful sigh, "I have a feeling will be a lot."

I feel my first wave of relief all day. Because though I hate talking to people and am not all that great at interacting with children, at least I won't be in front of a camera all day. My face won't be in household pictures all across town. Maybe Finnick actually was thinking of me when he was assigning jobs.

Then a thought occurs to me.

"Wait. Who the hell is Santa?"

Finnick and Annie exchange a look as Peeta, Jo, and I watch their silent communication.

"You didn't tell her," Annie scolds him, though she doesn't sound surprised.

"Would she be this calm if I had? She wouldn't have even come," Finnick defends.

Peeta and Jo both look at me with identical looks of confusion as I glare at the conversing couple. Because all five of us know that the 'she' they're referring to is me.

"Guys," I say slowly, "_Who_ is Santa?"

Annie takes a deep breath before sighing heavily, clearly losing the silent communication battle, and turns to face me. "Katniss, please keep in mind that Finnick didn't really have a choice in who–"

"Annie," I demand. I notice Finnick taking a step away from me.

Not a second later, I hear the voice of the last person on the planet I would expect to hear in the shop today. Or well, any day really.

"Sweetheart!" He bellows from behind me.

I watch as Annie, Finnick, Peeta, and Johanna focus their attention on the person behind me.

I turn around slowly, afraid of what I'm going to find.

Behind me, decked out in full Santa Claus gear, white beard and all, is my uncle Haymitch, arms spread out wide in front of him. "Fancy meeting you here, Sweetheart." He takes in my costume as I do the same to him, only, his jaw isn't nearly touching the floor like mine is. "Nice get up," he mocks as he takes in my elf costume.

I turn back around to note Finnick is now a good ten steps away from me and Peeta's eyes are alight with amusement.

"Finn, I'm going to kill you."

* * *

><p>"I didn't have a choice!" Finnick yells as I take a step toward him. His hands are waving in front of him in a placating gesture.<p>

But I don't care how placating he's trying to be at this point. "Really, Finn? _Really_?" I ask incredulously. "I'm all gloomy and doomy but you're going to hire _my relative_ to play happy, jolly Santa Claus? Haymitch. The most miserable, child-hating man on the planet."

"Hey!" My uncle shouts. "I liked you and Prim well enough when you were kids," he tries to defend.

At this, I literally cannot prevent the eye roll I give him. "Yeah, but that was before Dad–"

I stop myself short when I realize what I'm about to say. Pain radiates through me instantly at the mention of him, anger a second later for allowing myself to still be affected like this by a single word.

Haymitch, noting the shift in me, thankfully plays it off immediately in his usual way. "Yeah, yeah, so kids aren't my forte. Can't do much about that."

I just scowl at him for all it's worth.

Everyone else just looks at me with varying degrees of confusion. Finnick clearly can feel the shift in my demeanor and takes the opportunity to try and appease me. "Look Katniss, I swear I didn't have a choice in who Santa Claus was. That was the only condition Grams gave me when she agreed to help me set this whole business up."

I feel my eyebrows knit in confusion. "Why the hell would Mags want Uncle Haymitch as Santa Claus? If anyone would know how awful he'd be, it'd be her," I reason. Mags and Haymitch are really good old friends.

Haymitch gives me the answer.

"Community service, Sweetheart," he grumbles.

I raise my eyebrows at him with this new revelation. Now he's got my interest peaked. "Community service? What the hell did you do now old man?"

"Chaff and I got into a little disagreement with Thread down at Sae's. He was going on about how Coriolanus Snow should have won the election for governor last month," he shrugs. "And the little disagreement turned into a little altercation that turned into a public drunkenness and disturbing the peace charge."

It takes a second for his story to register. I look to Jo and Peeta who look just as shocked as I do. Finnick and Annie, clearly already knowing the story, eye me warily.

Everyone seems to be waiting for my response.

"So let me get this straight. You," I point at him, still trying to get over the fact that he's dressed up as Santa Claus with a red furry hat and stuffed belly, "the fully-functioning drunk, got into a fight with a cop in a bar and got _arrested_!?"

He pauses, running through my summary in his head. "Yep. That just about covers it."

"_Just about covers_–," I spit out as a fresh wave of anger takes over. "Does _Mom_ know?"

Haymitch's face softens at the mention of his sister.

"No need to worry your mother with things that are already handled, Sweetheart. Chaff and I are handling it like big boys and Mags offered this little sideshow to help me finish up the rest of my hours."

This catches my attention. "The rest? What else have you been doing?"

The scowl that is so often found on my face forms on his at my question.

"Mentoring."

At this I laugh. "I'm sorry, come again?"

"Mentoring, Sweetheart. You know, helping little kids with school work and shit?"

I smirk at the justice playing out before me. "Ha! This is what you get for telling Auntie Effie you didn't want kids. Now you're spending all your time with them."

"No, this completely validates every single argument I ever gave that woman," he counters.

"Whatever," I tell him as I remember there are others watching and listening to our conversation. I meet all of my friends' and Peeta's eyes, daring one of them to bring up any part of the discussion they just heard. Even Peeta, for having just met me, knows enough to keep his mouth shut.

Then I turn my attentions to Finnick. "You keep me as far away from him as possible if you don't want any children watching one of Santa's elves strangle him." I love my uncle Haymitch. I do. But it's remarkable how alike our personalities are, and how much we tend to bash heads.

Finnick nods his head vigorously. "I am _way_ ahead of you. You and Peet stay out in the front of the line taking orders and I'll keep good old Santa here," he's says while pointing to Haymitch, "nice and close to the sleigh with Jo and Annie."

Jo, who gets along with my uncle only marginally better than I do sometimes, lets out a laugh at this plan. "Okay Odair, whatever you say, but still plan on having customers watch one of the elves strangle him."

Finnick's normally calm exterior falters momentarily. "Jo, _please _don't."

"No promises," she says as she twists on her heel with a jingle, claiming she needs a drink after listening to the Everdeen-infused family drama.

I watch as Finnick sighs with exasperation. He pulls himself together a moment later. "Okay, Peet, you really need to go get dressed. It looks like families are starting to mill about the store," he tells Peeta as he takes a quick glance around the shop. "Kat, you just stay here at the entrance of the line in case anyone starts coming over. And Haymitch," he adds rather reluctantly, "let's hear your ho, ho, ho and get you set up in the sleigh with Annie."

As they head away, I can hear my uncle chuckling.

"Boy, if you think I'm going to be any more personable than I normally am you've got another thing coming."

"Awesome," is Finnick's unenthusiastic response.

* * *

><p>"So this is fun," Peeta comments casually three hours later, trying for the hundredth time today to get a conversation going with me. He clearly hasn't gotten the memo that there's very little I dislike more than small talk.<p>

"Yep," I reply as I take an envelope filled with money and an order form for Finnick from yet another mother. It's actually pretty crazy how busy we've been for the first day of a new business. Peeta and Finnick's fliers clearly did their job. There's been a steady stream of children and their parents coming through our line and spending the time with 'Santa Claus' either happily or miserably. There's been more than a few tears that Uncle Haymitch has handled horribly.

The same amused smile Peeta's had at every other response I've given him shows up in his face yet again. Stupid dimple and all.

"Am I funny or something?" I ask with more sharpness than I had intended. But it wipes his smile away. A small frown replaces it, which I find I don't like nearly as much as his smile.

"Uh, no. It's just–"

"Just what?" I demand as I try to keep eye contact with those incredible blue eyes. The only consolation to having to spend hours with a guy who was embarrassed at the thought of being paired with me when Finnick assigned our jobs is that his wide muscular build and curly blonde hair looks just as ridiculous in the elf costume as I feel in mine. Thankfully for him, he actually got pants instead of a little red dress.

Peeta chuckles lightly at my interruption. "It's just that you really don't like to talk much, right?"

I nod my head.

"So, I'm the exact opposite. I literally cannot shut up sometimes," he tells me with another smile.

Oh, how I have noticed. Not only has he been trying to converse with me every five minutes for the past three hours, but he talked to every single parent and child who walked through the line while I took their orders.

_Hello! Who's excited to see Santa? _

_Have you all been good boys and girls this year?_

_Did you bring your Christmas list?_

_Do you know which present you're going to ask him for?_

_Don't forget to leave him cookies on Christmas Eve!_

It's like he forgets that Santa Claus is a fully-functioning drunk in a big red suit and that we aren't really elves.

He doesn't let a single person go by without saying something to them, and it is clear everyone enjoys listening to him. It's incredible to watch.

Peeta Mellark has a gift.

I don't really know how to respond to that. "I guess," I say after a moment, "I guess I like to make my words, I don't know, count?"

His smile broadens at my statement. "None worth counting with me?"

I can feel a blush start to burn on my cheeks at his playful teasing. "Not when you're embarrassed to work with me," I mutter under my breath.

"What?" He asks me, surprise evident in his voice. I'm surprised I even said anything in the first place.

I take a deep breath, preparing to get this all out in one breath so he can finally leave me alone. "When Finnick told us we'd be working together, you were embarrassed. You didn't want to work with me."

I can see various emotions play across his face before he settles on amusement yet again. I seem to amuse him a lot. "Katniss, I was embarrassed because Finn insinuated we're a good couple."

Another one of my weaknesses is reading people. And catching innuendos.

"Oh." My face burns again as I stare down at my little elf booties. "I must have missed that."

Peeta lets out a hearty laugh, but when I look up at him, his face is tinged pink. "I think we need a do-over." At this, he stretches out his hand to me. "Peeta Mellark. Junior at Capitol Heights, currently wearing remarkably tight stockings, and very happy to be working with you today Miss…"

I roll my eyes at him, but can't help the smile that spreads across my face. This only seems to make him smile wider. I take his calloused hand in mine. "Everdeen. Katniss Everdeen. Junior at District 12 High, currently loathing the sound of jingle bells, and realizing felt hats are rather uncomfortable."

We shake hands, but he holds onto mine a second longer than a normal handshake requires.

When our eyes meet again, I can see a gleam in his. "Well it's very nice to meet you Katniss."

"You too Peeta," I tell him.

"Okay," he announces, ending our charade, "now that that's out of the way and I have you talking, let's get to the deep stuff."

I raise my eyebrows skeptically. "The deep stuff?" I ask with apprehension.

He smiles happily with that boyish grin.

He looks away from me momentarily as another family comes up to the entrance of Odair's Outerwear's Winter Wonderland, but as soon as they head further down into the line, his attention is back on me.

"Yep," he chimes, "the deep stuff. Favorite color, family data, deepest, darkest secret," he teases.

"You want to get to know me?" I ask in surprise.

His smirk tells me I'm late to the party. "I want to get to know you," he simply tells me. "You first."

I'm taken aback by this, but mull it over for a second. There is one question I've been curious about since I met him this morning. "Okay, why did you volunteer to help do this whole elf thing?"

"Oh wow, we're already getting into the complicated questions," he complains jokingly. "And to think I was going to ask you what your favorite color is."

"Green," I respond automatically to the surprise of us both.

"Mine's orange," he tells me a second later.

I shake my head with a smile. "That doesn't get you out of my original question."

This makes him sigh dramatically. "Okay, okay. Hmm. Well, to be completely honest, you."

"Me?" I choke out as my eyes widen, because that is the _last_ response I was expecting.

He laughs at my reaction. "Well, really, you and Johanna." He looks to me for a cue to continue, which I do readily, curious for an explanation. "So I said I'm a junior at Capitol Heights, which is technically true and technically not true. I've gone to Capitol Heights for all of middle school and high school, but I'm actually transferring to 12 after the holidays." He scans my face when he finishes, trying to gauge my reaction.

Again, one of the last responses I would have expected. "Okay… So why're you transferring?"

"Well," he starts, "I was at Capitol on scholarship for wrestling, but I tore my ACL during some training over the summer and can't wrestle anymore–"

"And they took your scholarship away?" I ask incredulously, knowing how hard I've been working to keep my grades up for an academic scholarship for applications for college next year.

"What?" He asks, unfazed by my continuous interruptions. "Oh no, they didn't. Well, I mean I guess they could have," he adds as an afterthought, "but no, that's not why I'm transferring. I have two older brothers who went there on wrestling scholarships, so I've kind of always been living up to their legacy instead of just making my own, and now that I don't have anything tying me down to that school, I told my dad I wanted to transfer. I mean, if I hadn't had the scholarship, I'd most likely be at 12 anyways. Finn and I live near each other and have been friends for a pretty long time. And well, I mean, obviously you know Finn went to 12 and he loved it, so I figured why not? My mom's pissed, but she's always pissed." He shrugs his shoulders. "What am I going to do about that?" He asks rhetorically.

I hadn't even known of Peeta until this morning, but it does make sense that he's friends with Finn. Finnick lives on the wealthier side of town with Mags and I've heard of the Mellark Bakery. The place is extremely popular and could easily allow them to afford a house there.

"Aren't you going to miss wrestling?"

I watch his brows scrunch together as he thinks about it. "Yes and no. I love wrestling, but it kind of took over my entire life, you know?"

Yeah, I do know that feeling, but for completely different reasons.

"It's nice to not schedule my life around practices and matches. So I knew Annie because of Finn and he mentioned that some of her friends were going to help him out with this photography business, so I figured I'd come help him and get to know some people from 12 so I'm not the loser on the first day at a new school with no friends." His self-deprecation is oddly refreshing.

Somehow, I doubt that Peeta Mellark would have any trouble making friends instantly.

"Well," I say after a moment, "I'm honored to be one of the chosen few." I seem to keep surprising myself with how easy it is to joke with him.

The brightness in his eyes as he smiles down at me throws me off balance. "It's my pleasure Gloomy the Elf."

I shove his shoulder playfully as a mother and her young daughter make their way up to the line. "Oh so if I'm Gloomy does that make you Sunshine the Elf or Smiley the Elf?"

"Hmm, I like Sunshine better. I'm the sunshine to your gloom," he jokes with a wink.

I'm completely unprepared for the spontaneous bout of butterflies that settles in my stomach at the sound of that.

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you think so far! Also, if you're wondering where the next chapter of Crayon'd is, have no fear! It's in the works :) Thanks for reading! Are you feeling the Christmas spirit yet?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Crushing on Sunshine

**Is it just me or did December completely fly by? If you're getting ready for crunch time like I am, good luck! And if you feel like you need something to take your mind off of the never-ending wrapping and last minute shopping, here's an opportunity to take a little break! I would like to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays for those of you who celebrate all of the other wonderful holidays this time of year. Take the opportunity to eat as many cookies as possible. And until then... please read, review, and enjoy!**

**Also, on a side note, I just want to let y'all know that the title of this story as I mapped it out in my head has always been #Elf Problems. It seems FFN has something against hash tags :/ So I always think of it as that, but you can think of it however you want!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything regarding The Hunger Games series.**

* * *

><p>If someone were to tell me on the first day as Santa's elf I'd be spending my Thursday night, my sixth consecutive night working, laughing so hard my sides ache, I'd call them a liar.<p>

I like my job, but not to the point of hysterical laughter.

If someone were to tell me Peeta Mellark would be the source of said laughter and aching sides, I'd consider an insanity check for them.

"So wait, wait," I try to ask between laughs, "he was running around _the mall_ with it?"

Peeta, who's trying to keep some semblance of calm to try and finish the story, is failing miserably. As soon as I start laughing, he's smiling and laughing along with me. "I couldn't make up something like that," he chokes out, "he literally tore the beard off the poor guy, jumped off his lap, and bolted away from the set screaming that Santa is a fraud!"

At this, I am gasping for air from how hard I'm laughing. I can feel tears starting to run down my cheeks, which actually hurt from laughing and smiling so much tonight.

Actually, this seems to be the trend all week. I can only imagine the scene we are making in the hunting department, seeing that customers keep eyeing us up strangely every few minutes.

Once I finally quiet down to small chuckles, I look to see Peeta watching me curiously with a thoughtful expression on his face. "You should see the picture. The photographer took it just as Rye is tugging on the beard, so you have Graham and me smiling like the good, innocent boys that we were," he says in a tone that clearly insinuates otherwise, "and the poor old guy dressed up as Santa Claus reaching up for the beard with bulging eyes."

I can't help but double over in laughter again. "So you guys actually _bought_ the picture?"

Peeta nods enthusiastically, flailing his arms as he finishes up the story. "Dad thought it was so hilarious that he couldn't not buy the photo. It's actually framed in his office at the bakery. My mom was so beyond furious with all of us, especially my dad for 'wasting money' on the photo, that she didn't talk to him for a week." After a moment, he adds, "it was probably the most peaceful week my dad had in a while."

His last statement, like other off-hand ones he's made the past couple of days, throws me off for a second before I recover and smile as if he'd still been joking about the endeavors of him and his older brothers, Graham and Rye. Trying to bring Peeta back to the animated state of a few minutes ago, I reach over the counter that separates us and squeeze his shoulder. "Your brothers are insane," I tease.

This brings his smile back and that stupid dimple that I can't bring myself to think is all that stupid anymore. His blue gaze meets my silver one. I can see as awareness hits him a second later. He sobers up from any lingering laughing immediately. "Oh, hey! You haven't eaten yet," he tells me in a reprimanding tone as he bends down into his backpack and disappears in front of the counter, reappearing a second later with a brown bag that is radiating all kinds of divine smells.

"_Peeta_," I scold him the same way I have for the past three days. "You really need to stop bringing me food."

But he just shakes his head with a smile, his blonde curls swaying from side to side with the movement. "And you really need to stop telling me that, because I'm not going to listen. Besides, you pay me back in math, so we're even."

And because he has reasoned with me that it's a fair trade for the past three days, I relent. Half because we are _technically_ even, and half because my stomach releases a loud, gurgling noise a minute later that clearly displays just how hungry I am.

After a successful start-off weekend for Finnick's photography business, it was agreed between Mags and I that I would be off from working as the hunting sales rep for Odair's Outerwear for the next three weekends since Finnick would need me all day to take orders and do other pointless "elf activities." Knowing that I need the money, Mags put me on the schedule from seven to eleven during the week. And with the Santa pictures being opened from three until seven every night during the week, that leaves me with zero time to do anything other than work and steal a minute here and there for schoolwork. I'm continuously finding myself stuck doing it until one o'clock in the morning.

School.

Santa.

Sales rep.

Homework.

Repeat.

My dinner plans for the next three weeks were simply going to be a granola bar if I got lucky.

That is, until Peeta adopted himself into my daily routine between Santa, sales rep, and homework.

It took him Monday to figure out how much time I would be spending at Odair's without a decent meal. Tuesday for him to bring me take-out food that I refused to let him pay for. And Wednesday to realize that it was counterproductive for me to pay him for my dinner every night when I was trying to save money.

So Peeta, being Peeta, I'd come to realize, came up with a compromise after discovering my "amazing math skills." His words, not mine.

He brings me food every night (leftover from the deli menu at Mellark's and destined to be thrown out anyways).

And I bring my brain to help him with math.

Peeta Mellark has many gifts I've come to realize, but I quickly discovered math is certainly not one of them.

He pushes the sandwich over the help desk counter to me and gives me a meaningful nod toward it before he pulls out another brown bagged sandwich for himself. He takes a giant bite out of his sub before mumbling around his mouthful of food. "Eat up."

And I do just that. I take a bite out of the turkey sub he made me, noting for the third night in a row that the bread still has a hint of warmth from being baked not too long ago. That doesn't stop me from groaning my approval as my stomach gets the food it has been demanding.

Peeta Mellark may think he's fooling me, and honestly, I can totally see why he could with how I epically fail at reading people and catching things that aren't straight forward. But it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the subs that we're eating for dinner are anything but ready to be thrown out from a day's worth of sitting in a bakery cooler.

They're freshly made, as in Peeta probably made them right before he came to see me.

I've thought about calling him out on it. I hate being given things that I can't return, and if I wasn't helping him so much with math, I probably would say something. But from what I've seen of Peeta, he's not doing it out of pity. He's just trying to help me out, just like Finn, Annie, and Jo have been doing.

And the smile I get from simply eating Peeta's sandwiches shuts me up immediately every single time. He makes it seem like _I'm _doing _him_ the favor.

We continue to munch on our food, enjoying the quiet of the store. With crunch time for Christmas shopping coming up within the next few weeks, I revel in the semi-quite hum of the store and the comfortable peace Peeta and I have as we eat. It's this time of the night that has been my only source of sanity this past week.

Sometimes we talk. Actually, a lot of the times we talk, answering questions that help us learn the "deep stuff" about each other. I've learned about his brothers and his father and listened to more crazy stories than I ever could have imagined. He tells me about the bakery and how he loves art and wants to become an art teacher someday. I tell him about Prim and her ugly cat that hates me. He learns of my love for the woods and how I have a passion for archery. We steer clear of the touchy topics.

And without fail, every single night I can't seem to figure out why he comes back the next night after going home from Santa pictures to shower and grab our dinner.

But he always, _always_ comes back. And he always, _always_ gets me to break down my highly secure walls.

So sometimes we talk, and other times, like right now, we just enjoy the company of the other.

It's during this content lull in the conversation that a startling thought occurs to me, the same way those butterflies keep showing up every so often with one of his smiles, or when I manage to make him laugh.

I've known Peeta Mellark for a total of six days, and somehow when I wasn't looking, he became a part of my daily life.

A part I can't imagine giving up in a little over two weeks' time.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Peeta asks, pulling me out of my scrutiny of this newest development. It's something I've been trying to repeatedly ignore when it starts nagging me.

"Hm? Nothing, just thinking about which bows I should probably stock on the shelves some more before we head out tonight. I've sold a few today," I lie.

He must catch it immediately, not that it's too hard to do. A faint blush crosses his features as he chuckles a bit. "We?" He asks after a moment.

It's then that I realize my fault in phrasing. "W-we? Did I say 'we?'" I stutter out as I feel my own blush flood my cheeks in a rush. "I meant 'me.'" A second after realizing my next error, I nearly shout, "I meant 'I!' Before _I_ head out tonight. _You_ can head out whenever you want because you don't work here and I'm sure you have better things to do than sit here and get tutored in math all night." The feeling to just crawl under the counter intensifies with every word that tumbles out of my mouth. "Not that you need tutoring in math all night!" I throw my hands up trying to defend my rambling. "I mean– god, never mind, I'm going to shut up now," I mutter as I drop my head into my hands. I can feel my face radiating an insane amount of heat.

Peeta has made the quiet, grumpy, and very solitary Katniss Everdeen a blubbering idiot.

I block my eyes from any form of vision until I hear Peeta's light chuckle and feel his gentle artist hands, calloused from years of helping out at the bakery, pull my arms away from my face. "I'm sorry Katniss, I didn't mean to fluster you," he tells me with the upmost sincerity in his eyes. Though, I can catch that trace of amusement that never seems to leave his blue eyes when he looks at me. "I just pointed it out because you've been insistent the past couple of days that you are perfectly capable of walking to your car by yourself," he clarifies for me.

Which, technically, is completely true. "I am perfectly capable of walking out to my car by myself," I mutter as I avoid any form of eye contact with him by shifting my position and pulling one of the hunting catalogs off the side of the counter to aide me in that task.

Peeta plucks it out of my hands, and when I look up, I see a smile teasing his lips, clearly trying to hold it back. "Trust me, with what you've told me about your skill with a bow, I'm very aware of how capable you are of protecting yourself, but that doesn't mean I still won't walk you out to your car. If anything, you're the one protecting me," he jokes with a wink.

I feel my cheeks tingling with the blood rushing to them, the same way they do every single time he says something like that.

"Also," he adds after I look down again and start fiddling with my hands, since he still has my magazine in hand, "remind me to never get on your bad side, I really would like to avoid the pointed end of your arrow."

I can't help but laugh at the seriousness in his tone.

As soon as I start laughing again, he grins at me, blue eyes twinkling, and tosses back my magazine. "I'm serious, I feel sorry for the boy who wrongs you."

I scoff at his statement. "Trust me, no need for arrows when there's no boy to wrong me."

The words slip right out before they even register in my Peeta Mellark-filled brain. I mentally run through every curse in the book as I note the surprise on his face as his eyes unmistakably widen at my idiotic comment. Because this is waters we have not treaded into yet. We've talked about family, and jobs, and school, and friends. But relationships? It seems to have been a taboo subject for us.

I bow my head again, but dare to take a peek through my lashes at Peeta, because he hasn't said a word yet, but he most definitely is debating something in that perfect, blonde-curled head of his.

_Oh, you don't have a boyfriend? That's so sad._

_Have I told you about my perfect girlfriend?_

_She's blonde, and perfect, and we're going to make perfect blonde babies together someday. _

My own conscious starts making up a thousand different scenarios in my head that completely obliterate every other thought and hope I've had about him for the past few days. Because surely he has a girlfriend. And surely she's perfect.

When he does meet my eyes and opens his mouth to speak, I swear, just for a moment, a hint of hope lays in his eyes. But surely I imagined that as well.

"So," he starts with a clearing of his throat, "you're, um, single? Uh I- I mean you're not seeing anyone?"

The question throws me for a second, because, yes, that is what I just insinuated a moment ago, Peeta. Please don't make me say it again.

I open my mouth to say just that when a very familiar, much missed voice calls my name.

My nickname, that is.

"Catnip!"

I jerk my head up fully and focus on Gale as he makes his way up behind Peeta and toward the help desk. "Gale! What the hell are you doing here?" I call out as I make my way from around the counter and walk right into his open arms. Being a good foot and a half taller than me, I feel my feet immediately leave the ground as he squeezes me into a bear hug. He lets me go after a few seconds and smiles down at me. I can't help the smile that crosses my face as I realize this is the first time I've seen him in months.

"Just got home from school and thought you'd be here. Figured I'd surprise my best friend and cheer up her no-doubt miserable mood," he retorts to my initial question. "Though," he says with a glance at Peeta, "you seem to be in much better spirits than I expected."

I register the need for introductions a good two seconds later than it should have taken me. "Oh, right." I turn to face Peeta, who for the first time since I've met him, has a face completely devoid of any emotion, except for that small frown I've come to hate.

He beats me to any introduction I could have come up with. "Peeta Mellark," he simply states as he sticks his hand out toward Gale.

Gale takes it, and shakes it with a little more force than I consider necessary. "Gale Hawthorne. You keeping little Catnip here company?"

I scowl at him, to which he laughs. I can tolerate the nickname well enough, but adding the 'little' makes me consider putting him at the end of one of my arrows. "Boy, I did miss that scowl," Gale quirks as I glare at him and note the complete change in Peeta's demeanor.

Again, Peeta responds before I can even take the chance to. "I just brought her some food."

I feel my stomach drop a little at that, because I thought it'd been much more than that. Yeah, he brought me food, but to me that was only a small fraction of it. He kept me company. He made me laugh to the point of tears. He diligently stayed for my entire shift just to walk me out to my car. He has gotten me _talking_, a grand feat in and of itself.

Gale picks up on my frown as I glance at Peeta, and I feel an awkward tension start to rise that I don't fully understand.

"Where's Madge?" I ask, trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness.

Gale, who had turned to not-so-subtly scrutinize Peeta, brings his attention back to me at the mention of his girlfriend. "Dropped her off at her dad's as soon as we got into town. The ride from Panem took longer than we thought. She said she'd call you though."

I can sense our conversation going right over Peeta as he remains the quietest I have ever seen him since meeting him. "Gale and his girlfriend Madge go to Panem U like Annie and Finn, but they're sophomores and don't live in the dorms, so they didn't need to be out by a certain date like Annie and Finn did," I explain, and slowly, like a fog has been lifted from him, understanding dawns on his face. Understanding to what, I'm not sure, but he gives a small smile, which is a thousand times better than the quiet, frowning Peeta.

"Well, I think I'll head out then so that you two can catch up," he announces as he bends down to pick up his bag and ball up the wrappers from our sandwiches.

"What?" I ask immediately, because that's not what I want. I want him to stay with me. We were _just_ talking about him walking me out to my car.

"Yeah, I mean, I've got a lot of work to do and," he adds unnecessarily, "other stuff."

Gale shoots me a quizzical look as I feel my frown deepen. "Other stuff," I clarify. Because school work and "other stuff" hasn't been an issue all week. "You can just do your work here like you've been." I try to convince him, cringing at the tone of my voice. It's subtle enough that Peeta doesn't pick up on it, but Gale, for knowing me since I was two, picks up on it immediately. Amusement graces his features that forces my frown into an instant glare as I convey a very clear message to him, gray eyes challenging gray eyes.

Peeta, again completely oblivious, rattles off another nonsense excuse before muttering a goodbye to Gale and offering a gentle smile in my direction. The complete change in his character leaves me dumbstruck. "I'll see you tomorrow okay? Thanks for the dinner company."

And then I'm watching him turn away and head toward the shop's exit.

"Bye," I mumble at his retreating figure.

I hear Gale chuckling as I turn back to the counter, trying to quell the disappointment from the abrupt abandonment that just occurred. He was supposed to stay for another two hours with me, walk me out to my car, tell me stories and listen to me talk about loads of pointless stuff. At Gale's continuous, never-ending sniggers, I snap my head up toward him. "_What_ is so goddamn funny, Hawthorne?" I demand.

He shakes his head knowingly. "Oh Catnip, you have it so bad it's not even funny."

I try to kick him out as soon as the words leave his mouth, and being completely aware of the tornado that is my current mood, he leaves the store minutes later telling me he'll text me later when I'm not ready to murder him.

That only makes me want to do it more. Possibly with a bow and arrow.

So I sit by myself at the help desk for the next two hours without helping a single customer. I stew in my anger over Gale's remark and Peeta's abrupt departure without a single decent explanation. My face heats up every single time Gale's words run through my head.

_You have it so bad._

But I just don't get why he left like that.

We were having fun. I was going to help him with his Trig homework.

I drive home from work in the worst mood possible to man. I storm into the house, only momentarily pausing in the living room to say goodnight to Prim as she watches TV. Apparently my mood is clearly written in my voice, because her only response is, "glad to see your happy streak ended."

That only irritates me more and I storm to my room in a huff, not wanting to think about anything but a shower and sleep and not stupid Peeta Mellark. But he invades my thoughts immediately. I throw my phone on my bed in aggravation, snorting in frustration when it bounces on the mattress once and then proceeds to fall to the carpet.

As if by some twisted act of fate, my phone lights up at my feet, showing a new message from none other than Peeta Mellark himself. It's only then I realize I missed an earlier message from him as well. And then it buzzes again.

**Peeta (10:58pm):** _Text me when ur at ur car and heading home so I know ur okay?_

**Peeta (11:16pm):** _Did u get my message? Are u home? _

**Peeta (11:17pm):** _SOS. Triangles are putting me on the breach of insanity :(_

And because that first message somehow miraculously tempers my frustrations with him immediately, and because it seems I can't get enough of him, I answer him back without a second thought.

**Katniss (11:18pm):** _Ya sorry, just got home. Didnt see your message._

**Katniss (11:19pm):** _What do you need help with?_

My phone buzzes almost instantly with a reply.

**Peeta (11:19pm):** _SOHCAHTOA D:_

**Peeta (11:20pm):** _This shit is awful I will nvr need to know this 2 teach kids how to paint._

I chuckle to myself as I scroll through my call list until I find his name. I place my phone to my ear, only to hear the ring for half a second before a deep 'hello' rings in my ears. And like every other time I hear that voice, my stomach twists in the best way possible and I smile for no one else to see.

"I didn't realize my amazing math skills are offered over the phone now."

The chuckle I get from him in return makes the butterflies reemerge. But then the line goes quiet.

"Peeta?"

"Look Katniss, I'm really sorry for leaving like that before," he apologizes.

And though the angry pit in my stomach has been replaced by the twist and turn of butterflies, I can't help the rejection and sadness that rise again like they did for the two hours I sat in the store alone. "Why did you then?" I ask in a soft voice, trying and failing to keep the vulnerability out of it.

There's another pause before he answers. "Um, I didn't want to intrude on your reunion with your friend."

"That's a dumb reason," I tell him, to which he laughs again.

"I figured you'd say something like that." He sounds like he's only half joking. "Forgive me?"

I decide, this one time, that maybe I can forgive him, because I really, _really_ want to forgive him. "Just don't do it again," I mutter into the receiver. "I scared off every single customer because I was mad at you."

"I swear I'll stay with you next time," he promises earnestly.

After that, we let it go. I ask him to explain his math problem to me, he reads a string of numbers off from his book and tells me what he needs to solve for. We get through one problem.

We get through one problem out of twenty before I'm being captivated by another crazy story about the three Mellark brothers that leaves me rolling on my bed with laughter and soaking my pillows with the tears rolling down my face until two o'clock in the morning.

I wake up when my alarm goes off at six in the morning the next day. I'm still on top of my covers, unshowered, and in my work uniform.

I lift my arm and note that my phone is still in my hand. The screen still has Peeta's name written across it, numbers still counting the seconds and minutes, and eventual hours, of a call that started last night. I lift the phone to my ear, not knowing what to expect. "Peeta?" I whisper. Because whispering seems pretty appropriate at this point.

All I hear is a faint snore come from the other line. I never could have imagined a sound more perfect. My brain immediately concocts an image of a sleeping Peeta, head laying down on his desk with his phone by his head.

The thought leaves my cheeks tingling and a shy smile on my face.

Gale's right.

I've got it bad.

* * *

><p>"Um, helllllloooooo? Gloomy? Sunshine? Would you please stop making so much noise over there?" Finnick yells to us from his spot behind the camera. The fact that he actually called us by our "elf names" and addressed us to begin with tells us exactly what kind of mood he's in. I don't think he realized until after a week of doing this how difficult some children can be when it comes to Santa pictures. And how horribly disastrous it can be when Santa Claus' best encouragement is 'quiet down kid and maybe your ma will throw in an extra present this year.'<p>

To this, most mothers huff angrily away until Annie runs after them apologizing profusely for Haymitch's antics.

To say this has only happened once would be a lie.

Haymitch and every single kid that hasn't just sat there and smiled for the three seconds that is needed to take the picture have been bringing Finnick to his tipping point.

And his little elves are fortunate enough to get the brunt of his moodiness. It's almost as if he and I have traded moods over the past couple of days, and unfortunately for him, we're only one week into this.

Peeta and I, who after that tense Thursday night here at Odair's have patched things up exceptionally well, have found that it's near impossible to stop from talking, or joking, or laughing when in each other's presence. Logically, this goes against every fiber of my normal personality, earning me more than one strange look from Finnick and an annoyingly large number of meaningful looks from both Annie and Jo. They haven't said anything to me yet, but the amount of unspoken mini conversations I battle and wage with them over the course of the Santa pictures is enough for me to know I'm not fooling them even a little bit.

Because Peeta and I seem to be the new target of Finnick's grumpiness (he'd never get mad at Annie, Jo would kick his ass in a heartbeat if he pissed her off, and Haymitch could just care two shits about anything), Peeta decided that he would boost moral with what he knows best.

Sugar cookies.

With the apparent realization of many mothers that our Santa Claus sucks, business started slowing down on Friday and Saturday when it should have been picking up because of the weekend. So later in the day yesterday, Peeta left for a little while and returned with two giant boxes of cookies that he and I gave out to every little boy and girl (and even the moms and dads who looked at them longingly) who entered the line for the next hour and a half.

A little bribery never hurt anyone.

Unsurprisingly, all cookies but one were gone by the end of the day. Peeta snuck that last cookie to me when Jo's hungry eyes weren't looking. He put a finger to lips, telling me to keep it our secret, which only brought my attention to his lips, which then made me turn away to try and hide the blush that rose to my cheeks. That then led me to face Johanna, somehow conveying in a single look, that yes, she knew that I was eyeing up Peeta's lips, and yes, she knew that I took the last cookie.

But what a beautiful cookie it was.

I only took the smallest bite out of it after staring at the perfectly decorated snowflake and listening to Peeta gripe and moan about how he had to see my face when I took a bite of my first Mellark creation. And that staring at it in awe was only making him dance on his feet with anticipation.

That smallest bite turned into me scarfing the whole cookie down in record time, much to Peeta's enjoyment. I voiced that my only regret was that I didn't take a picture of it first.

So today, Peeta brought in four giant boxes of the cookies, and so far, we've had our busiest day to date, easily tripling the number of customers from last Sunday, making a happy Finnick. So naturally, those four giant boxes of cookies were filled with only crumbs by the time noon rolled around, making a grumpy Finnick.

"Finn, I swear to god, if we're going to deal with your hormonal mood swings all day I'm outta here," Jo warns during a switch in children on the set.

Peeta simply tries to appease both of them. "Relax guys, I called Rye and told him to bring more. He'll be here before you know it." He tries to somewhat whisper it so that the children and parents in line can hardly hear him, but it's more like whisper-shouting as he tries to be heard over the crowd of people.

No sooner does he finish speaking does a guy a little taller and a little leaner than Peeta, but with the same remarkably blonde hair covered by a Santa hat and blue eyes come strolling toward the set, arms full of the same boxes Peeta carried in earlier today.

"SPECIAL DELIVERY!" The guy, who without a doubt in my mind I know is Rye, calls out. "Freshly baked sugar cookies from Mrs. Claus' bakery! Fresh out of the oven!"

The children in line start squealing in joy and I can't help but smile as some parents call out their excitement as well. Mellark's Bakery products are clearly the highlight of their day.

I watch as Finnick sighs in relief and Peeta's smile broadens at the sight of the boxes. He walks over to his brother and takes half the load from him as they head back over to me to put them on the table we have set up.

Once their backs are turned away from the crowd of people ogling at the cookie boxes, I catch Rye mutter almost imperceptibly to Peeta. "And Mrs. Claus, Peet? _Really_ not happy about you using the bakery's ingredients to give out free cookies."

At this, I follow the muscles in Peeta's shoulders with my eyes as they tense at Rye's words. "Well then you can tell _Mrs. Claus_ not to worry, because I ordered and paid for the ingredients with the money Finn's paying me to work this," he replies bitterly. Bitterly, a tone I have not once associated with him since we met. A tone I never even thought could be conveyed through Peeta's deep voice.

Rye, apparently used to this tone, snorts as if he's in on a joke that I'm clearly not. "Yeah, I'm going to pass on that. I have to deal with her for a month before I go back to school. I'm going to avoid as much conflict with her as possible."

Then, Rye cuts off the conversation when he turns around to regard me, the eavesdropper. I watch as he eyes me up and down quickly, eyes lingering on my striped stocking-covered legs, which makes me scrunch my eyebrows together and my scowl to appear in record time. "Well _you_ must be the one and only Katniss Everdeen," Rye states without room for question. He sticks his hand out to me in greeting. "Rye Mellark. It is a complete _pleasure_ to finally meet your acquaintance in such a wonderful outfit. I've heard _sooo_ much about you."

If I wasn't already scowling at him, the fact that he already knows who I am would surely have done the trick.

"_Rye_," Peeta warns as the brothers' eyes meet and a clear message is relayed.

Rye just rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever little brother, I'm leaving." Then his attention is back on me. "I do hope we can get to know each other sometime," he says in a suggestive tone that makes my nose scrunch and him laugh as Peeta punches him hard in the arm.

"_Rye_!" Peeta yells in yet another tone I have never heard from him until today.

"_Okay_!" Rye admonishes as he rubs his arm. His whiny tone reminds me of a story Peeta had told me about Rye earlier in the week.

"Is that how he sounded when he cried getting that tattoo?" I ask Peeta, trying to keep my voice as serious as possible.

Peeta, catching the hint of a smile on my face, smirks with a nod at his brother as Rye's mouth drops open. "_You told her about that_?" Rye asks in an incredulous voice, clearly betrayed. He goes on to defend himself with a tale of a giant needle that was ten times the size of a regular needle and how he truly was a man sitting there for hours as a needle continuously stabbed his skin. I roll my eyes at him as Peeta tries to subtly usher Rye toward the exit as Rye finishes his gallant tale. "So you see, I was not crying. My water ducts were triggered by a nerve in my shoulder which resulted in a release of tears that had _nothing_ to do with pain," he calls the last bit over his shoulder as he walks out of earshot.

"For the love of god Rye, let it go already." Peeta chuckles as he makes his way back towards me once his brother leaves out the entrance. "Sorry about that," Peeta says once he's next to me. His cheeks are as red as my elf dress, and I'm sure his ears are a similar color underneath his hat for whatever reason. "A pretty face is his weakness."

A single sentence forces my heart to quicken triple its normal pace.

If he hadn't just called me pretty, I probably would have had a witty response, but at one stupid little word, my own face easily matches the color of my dress as well. "Um, it's not a problem," I stutter out. "He's exactly how you described him," I say as I nudge his shoulder, well, more like his arm, with my shoulder. Then, to escape any further flushing of the face, I turn my focus to the boxes of cookies and grab some to start passing out to anyone in line who hasn't gotten one.

Peeta takes my lead and we work at a quiet, diligent pace until the line dies down as lunch time rolls around for the majority of families. The line is completely empty when two young girls come running up to the line, followed by their dad who is trailing behind them, telling them to slow down.

If it wasn't for their ages, and if it wasn't for the way the older girl protectively held on to her little sister's hand, I probably would not have become frozen to the spot like I did.

I watch as the older girl, with her brown hair flowing down her back, pulls on her sister's hand as she shakes her head vehemently, blonde hair swaying from side to side as she backs away right into her father's legs. It's clear that at the sight of Santa Claus, the little one is petrified.

I'm completely transfixed as the father kneels down to talk to the little blonde girl, undoubtedly whispering reassurances, and only after he adds something else does the little girl nod her head shyly. They make their way through the line, accepting cookies from Peeta, who hasn't noticed my frozen state. The father and daughters walk over to the sleigh, the older one fearlessly tugging on the younger one's hand to get her closer to Haymitch. The little one holds onto her daddy's hand and tugs him along as well.

It's only then that I realize what the dad will do. The older one situates herself on Haymitch's lap while the father kneels down in front of the sleigh, allowing the younger one to hop up onto his knee as Annie and Jo pull out of the picture so that the focus is on the family of three. This is probably the first time all week that a parent has joined in on the picture with their children.

And even though neither girl has a braid in their hair. And even though the father's hair is just a shade or two lighter, when the little one's lip starts to wobble and her dad starts humming a Christmas tune to distract her, my breath gets stuck in my throat as a lump lodges there. Because even without the braids or the hair, I've seen this before.

The pounding of my heart intensifies until I feel the pulse drowning out any other sound in my ears.

Because I've experienced something so remarkably similar to this that it's like a punch in the gut watching the three of them interact. I've seen this before. Only, last time _I_ was the one on Santa's lap, joining in singing with my dad as Prim was holding back tears during the picture.

The rush of memories.

Of happier Christmases.

Of silly Santa pictures.

Of my dad.

It all becomes… it becomes too much, and I find the overwhelming need to get away from here as fast and as quickly as possible before I completely lose it in front of the family and all of my friends and Peeta.

I'm breathing hard as I take a step back, and then another. My movements do not go unnoticed by Peeta as he looks over at me and sees the wild look in my eyes.

The worry in his shines through at the look on my face. "Katniss?"

But I just shake my head, because I need to get away. He reaches toward me, but I pull away as my whole body starts to shake with the need to get as far from this scene as possible.

"I– I–"

But what am I supposed to say?

So I say nothing. I just turn on my feet and listen to the rhythm of the jingle bells on my shoes as I run away from the haunting memories of two sisters singing Christmas songs with their father who's no longer here.

* * *

><p><strong>The last chapter won't be up before Christmas, but that's okay. The story progresses through after Christmas, so it actually should work out well time-wise. Plus, who isn't still shopping and eating Christmas cookies three or four days after Christmas? The final part to this story will be up very soon after the holiday! Again, have a safe and wonderful one :)<strong>


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